A Hedgehog And a Snowy Evening
by moriarty's-tardis
Summary: Johnlock fanfic unadulterated FLUFF. male/male. sherlock/John. Rated K.


Johnlock fanfic: a hedgehog and a snowy evening (updated version)

Rated K - comfort /friendship/romance

It was another peaceful night in 221 B. The snow was falling softly outside the window, covering the streets with a blanket of shimmering white; glowing in the streetlights.

Sherlock had gone into town for a case, leaving John home to tend to his blog. John had turned off his computer realizing the time; it was the middle of the night. Sherlock wasn't back yet and John had gotten hungry. He walked into the kitchen in his shirt and night pants. He didn't have on shoes nor a robe, despite the slight chill that fell in the air of the apartment.

He shuffled through the kitchen quietly, gathering ingredients for his late dinner.

'Maybe I should make some for Sherlock, in case he's hungry when he gets back' thought John.

He put the selected ingredients in a pot and set it over the small fire coming from the stove. The only light in the flat was coming from the candles in the hallway, the small stove fire and the soft moon light shining in through the window. John sat at the table waiting for the water to boil, gazing lazily out the window at the moonlit, snow covered world.

After a few seconds, he could barely make out a silhouette of a tall man walking down the street. The man drops a small thing that John could make out as a small box the size of his fist with a bow on it. He leans down to pick up the box with his left hand and swiftly brushes off the snow with his right; trying not to let the damp, cold snow ruin it. Then the tall man straightens back up and keeps walking until he is out of Johns view.

John sighed; the water had started boiling.

John got up and picked up the wooden spoon so he could stir the ingredients in the pot. He started stirring the food in slow, tired circles. He paused for a moment as he heard the front door open, creaking softly. He kept stirring when he heard the door shut with a loud bang, and a curse uttered by the visitor. John smiled to himself, knowing that the day's case was probably a success and that Sherlock was back at the flat. He shifted slightly as he heard Sherlock walking up the old, creaky steps to the hall of their flat. Sherlock took off his coat and scarf and headed to his bedroom to change into his night clothes. John listened to the shuffle of clothing coming from the otherwise silent part of the flat while he continued stirring the content of the pot. Sherlock emerged from his room with almost complete silence, pausing in the corridor to breathe in the sent of the food cooking in the kitchen, and breathes out heavily.

John noted sherlock's presence as he walked into the room. The shuffle of sherlock's robe getting closer and closer with every step. John stopped stirring for a moment, which caused Sherlock to hesitate until John started stirring again.

After a while, John forgot Sherlock's presence and started humming a song he had heard earlier that day. Sherlock listened for a minute, as if entranced by the melody coming from the lips of his flatmate. John continued humming until he felt the faint brush of someone breathing softly behind him. Sherlock got slightly closer until he was breathing down John's neck. John shuddered in response, but continues stirring, as if he didn't feel the heat of another human being radiating on his back. Of course Sherlock, being the observant detective he is, noticed the slight tremble. Sherlock leaned over, ever so closely, so that his head was a millimetre* away from resting on John's shoulder. John glanced over at the detective to see him watching John's hands as he stirred the contents of the pot. John felt the detective's dark curly hair brush the side of his neck, and the breath caressed his collar bone and made a soft noise. Sherlock's cupid bow lips parted slightly as he whispered a barely audible question,

"what are you cooking?"

John smirked and replied equally as quiet, "you're standing right here. I think you can deduce that one yourself."

Even their whispers sounded loud in the silence of their flat. Their softly spoken words echoed through the room, filling the quiet room with sound. John felt sherlock's body fully resting against him, Sherlock's head was on John's shoulder. John fought back a smile, trying not to show how much he enjoyed the close comfort of his flatmate.

John felt Sherlock shift slightly to the left, causing John to feel something sharp poking into his back. The detective noticed his discomfort and pulled the sharp thing out of his robe pocket.

"I got you something John," whispered Sherlock softly.

"It isn't much, but it made me think of you."

He reached around John to hand him the present. Sherlock's arm brushed John's side as he handed him a dark colored box.

John put the wooden spoon down and wrapped his tired fingers around the Strands of ribbon, connected to the elegant red bow. He tugged the ribbon, slowly undoing the elaborate knot. John heard Sherlock breathe in deeply as he took the top off the box, extracting from it a peculiar-shaped carving.

"What is this?" asked John.

"It's... A hedgehog." Sherlock replied.

The figure was a wooden hedgehog with blue paint outlining its features. John held it in his palm, observing it from different angles. Hedgehogs are John's favorite animals. He gave a small smile and whispered,

"I love it Sherlock. Thank you."

Sherlock released a small sigh of relief and turned his head away slightly so John couldn't see the grin blooming on his pale face.

John set the hedgehog and the box aside and continued stirring the contents of the pot. When the food was finally done boiling, he slowly turned off the fire, not wanting Sherlock to move from the comfortable position against his back. Sherlock had noticed that the food was finished so he pulled away swiftly, as if just noticing the closeness of his flatmate.

Sherlock sat down at the table behind him, picking up a glass of wine that John had earlier left unfinished. As Sherlock drank the remaining of John's wine, John was putting the food in bowls for both of them while adjusting unhappily to the cool air of the flat. John gathered the silverware and set it on the table next to Sherlock. As John gathered the bowls, he could feel the detective watching his movements. John turned around and set the table. Sherlock's eyes followed his every move, making John's heart beat faster then usual.

"I made your favorite," said John.

He put the bowls on the table. He moved to sit down, but Sherlock pulled out the chair next to him and gestured for John to sit. John blushed and sat down hurriedly In the chair next to Sherlock. He picked up his spoon and started eating. Much to John's amazement, so did Sherlock. John cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock, silently asking why he was eating. Sherlock never eats (no matter how much John pesters him) while he is on a case.

"The case is finished now. The barber did it. Plus-" Sherlock suddenly stopped speaking and continued eating his soup

Confused, John asked,

"Plus what?"

"Nothing" replied Sherlock hastily.

John dropped the subject, yet pondered what the detective may have been about to say.

They kept eating in silence for a few minutes until John finished his dinner and picked up his plate to put it in the sink. Sherlock, surprisingly, asked for seconds. It pleased John that the detective was actually eating for once.

John leaned against the counter, watching Sherlock with wide eyes as he ate every last drop. When Sherlock finished his dinner, he glanced up at John and caught his gaze. They continued to stare at each other, challenging the other to look away. Both of them jumped as the clock struck 2 which caused a series of giggling between the two men.

'wow' thought John 'here we are at 2 A.M. giggling like a couple of primary school girls,' but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop laughing.

After several minutes the two men calmed down, and John asked Sherlock softly,

"How is it that a hedgehog made you think of me?"

Sherlock looked around nervously then whispered back,

"Um... I don't know... It just-" Sherlock waved his hands in John's direction.

"Looked like me?" John teased. Sherlock's eyes widened in alarm.

"No! That isn't what I meant!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Ok ok, I was just teasing you! Quiet down or you will wake up the entire street." Sherlock blushed, embarrassed and played with a loose screw in the side of the table.

John straightened up and said,

"I think I'm ready for bed."

John was walking by Sherlock on his way to his room when Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"What I was going to say before was: plus... you were the one that made it for me."

John smiled at this. With a sudden burst of courage, he leaned down and gave Sherlock a quick, chaste kiss on the forehead.

John tried to back away quickly, embarrassed at what he had just done, but Sherlock's iron grip tightened around his wrist.

" I..." stammered John, who's face was turning a crimson red.

Sherlock just kept staring at the wall with a face blank of expression, as if he didn't know what to do with himself. A long moment passed, and John thought Sherlock was going to yell at him or something. But Sherlock turned towards John and pulled John down against him. After a moment, John's brain finally registered that he, John Watson, was kissing the famous Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, and more surprisingly at that, he was enjoying it. It was the greatest thing he had ever felt. Sherlock's lips pressed against his, Sherlock's arms wrapped around his neck; nothing in the word could compare to this.

When they finally parted to breathe, Sherlock was breathing heavily, his face flushed, and for the first time in a long while, John saw the detective smiling. Not an arrogant smirk or a sexy half smile that drove John mad, but a full grin. John couldn't help but smile back.

John turned to go to his bedroom when Sherlock whispered,

" John?"

"Yes?" he replied.

" How did you know? " asked Sherlock quietly.

" Know what?" John asked confusedly.

"What my favorite kind of soup was?"

John chuckled,

"I made a deduction. How did you know my favorite animal was?" Sherlock smiled,

"I am also capable of making deductions John, in case you've forgotten."

John remembered the present he had left on the counter. He went and retrieved it, then walked into the living room. Sherlock followed him curiously. John reached up and put the wooden hedgehog on display on the mantle.

"Perfect." said John.

"I concur." Sherlock agreed in a satisfied tone.

They walked back into he kitchen, Sherlock put his bowl in the sink and walked back over to John.

Without a word, Sherlock enveloped John in a warm hug. John hugged back, feeling happy and safe in the arms of his flatmate.

Sherlock unwillingly released John from his arms and said good night. John walked towards his room, and paused when he heard Sherlock's whisper,

"I love you, John."

John hesitated before answering,

"and I… love you… Sherlock."

Sherlock made a satisfied noise before shutting the door to his room behind him.

John walked into his room, closed the door behind him, and sighed deeply. John sat down on the bed in his cold room which seemed much colder in comparison to the warmth of his flatmate's embrace. He stared out his window at the falling snow covering the street, wondering how it came to be that he has fallen for his flatmate. John rubbed his eyes and got under the covers, falling asleep at the sight of the falling snowflakes. His last though before sleep submerged him was that he wished a certain consulting detective could be lying under the warm covers beside him.

Author's note: Well if you read to the end of this insanely long story, I applaud you! You must ether really like Johnlock or are really really bored. I don't live in England but I tried to use some of the British terms that I knew of which may explain why certain words are spelt differently. I wrote this a while ago and recently fixed the spelling and grammar. Criticism is appreciated. Thank you.


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